


burning

by crashstiel



Category: Breaking Bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashstiel/pseuds/crashstiel
Summary: Those days after the end were always harsh to Jesse.





	

_September 7th, 2011_

Jesse drove in Todd's car. Knuckles white on the steering wheel. He ached in his ribs, his heart, everywhere in his body. The pain traveling like flames on a wick, swallowing him whole.

The air around him seemed bitter and suffocating. Each breath was a quick inhale that pulled his skin tight over his bones. Through the deep blue sky, he saw his breath rise and fade. Pale air dissipating. 

The chill wind crept through, and lay its icy fingers on his skin. Eyes teary, incapable of properly focusing on the expanse of road rolling ahead, he lay his foot harder on the accelerator.

The asphalt dipping into the tires, he felt every turn leave behind the night.

He never thought Albuquerque could get this cold. 

 

_September 7th, 2012_

The sky was especially grey for an early September morning. Heavy and surrounding, it left Jesse glancing over his shoulder every so often.

He looked down at his shoes, the dark material a stark contrast to the yellowed grass he was standing on. 

The cemetery was quiet, still, uninterrupted except for the soft wind brushing against Jesse's shoulders. Empty except for him. Walter was right. You did want people to miss you when you were gone.

He knew it was a bad idea to come back to Albuquerque. But he had to be here.

The tombstone read his full name. Everything needed for it to be real. 

Walter Hartwell White  
1959-2011  
Beloved father, husband, son, and friend. 

It seemed so cynical. Like such a lie. He can only imagine the look of disgust Walter would have played on his face if he were here.

Above ground.

Jesse's hands started shaking, and he dug into his pocket, searching for his pack. He pulled the worn box out, recovered a cigarette, and put the filter to his lips. Retrieving his lighter, he flicked it on, and brought it to the tip. The end glowed, and smoke puffed before rising. The nicotine fulfilled its purpose, seeping in and setting a calmer tone. 

He watched as the smoke billowed up, swirling and intertwining with the clouds above. 

He took several drags before glancing back down. Sighing heavily, he rubbed his face with the back of his hand. The silence of the grave was deafening. Jesse spoke quietly and hesitantly.

"I never got a chance to thank you. For what you did that night. I guess I don't want to think about it. You know- the end of an era and all."

"I do think about it, though," He nodded, "I can't escape it. The whole reason I was in there in the first place was because of you."

He wiped at the corner of his eyes. "If I was a bigger man, I would forgive you," the cigarette brought to his lips. Through a smile he released the smoke. A bitter laugh. "But I'm not. I'm just not, man."

He laughed harder, more pain and anguish becoming visible. His left arm crossed to grasp at his right side where his ribs throbbed in pain.

Eyes wet, he looked down at the grass. A final drag on his cigarette, he straightened up. "Hey, screw you, man," Tossing the butt onto the grass, he let it burn as he walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> (because september brought a new meaning to jesse.)
> 
> something i worked on a while ago and never posted for some reason. might add to this. blah blah jesse musings.


End file.
